to stifle for ever any ability in Michael to ask questions,
she proceeded to cram his mouth with a dessert-spoonful of rice pudding
from her own plate, jarring his teeth with the spoon when she withdrew
it.

Then Michael's lovely mother in vivid rose silk came into the room, and
Cook squeezed herself backwards through the door very humbly and so
quietly that Annie found herself alone before she realized the fact; so
that in order to cover her confusion and assist her retreat she was
compelled to snatch away Michael's plate of rice pudding before he had
finished the last few clotted grains. Michael was grateful to Annie for
this, and he regarded her from that moment as an ally. Thenceforth he
would often seek her out in what she called 'her' pantry, there to
nibble biscuits, while Annie dried cups and swung them from brass hooks.

"How cosy you all look," said mother. "Darling Stella, are you enjoying
your rice pudding? And, darling Michael," she added, "I hope you're
being very good."

"Oh, yes," said Nurse, "Good! Yes. He's very good. Oh, yes. Tut-tut!
Tut-tut!"

After this exhalation of approval Nurse blew several breaths, leaned
over him, pulled down his blue and white sailor-top, and elevated his
chin with the back of her hand.

"There's no need to bother about the drawing-room or the dining-room or
my bedroom or, in fact, any of the rooms except the night-nursery and
the day-nursery. You're quite straight in here. I shall be back by the
end of June."

Nurse shook her head very violently at this, and Michael felt tears of
apprehension welling up into his eyes. Mrs. Fane paused a moment
doubtfully; then she waved beautiful slim gloves and glided from the
room. Michael listened to delicate footsteps on the stairs, and the
tinkle of small ornaments. A bleak silence followed the banging of the
front door.

"She's gone away. I know she's gone away," he moaned.

"Who's She?" demanded Nurse. "She's the cat's mother."

"Mother! Mother!" he wailed. "She always goes away from Michael."

"And no wonder," said Nurse. "Dear, dear! I Yes--tut-tut!--but goodness
gracious, she won't be gone long. She'll be back in June."

"What's June?" Michael asked.

"If you ask any more silly questions you'll go to bed, young man; but if
you're a good boy, I'll tell you a story."

"A real story? A nice long story?" asked Michael.

"I'll tell you a story about Jack o' my Nory And now my story's begun.
I'll tell you another abou